Torture, Jersey Style
by cate's corner
Summary: A tag to 1.09 The Siege. Steve's insulted his homestate once. Danny makes sure he'll never do it again. Steve/Danny 'cargument'


This is my third H50 story. The first two have been quite serious, and since I love the humour in the series (I could watch Steve and Danny bicker all day), I thought I'd lighten the mood a bit. The idea for this story came from a video on a certain video-sharing website. I've watched it so many times, and it still cracks me up :o)

I'm with Danny too, I love Bon Jovi, so - sorry, Steve, but for this story, you've been thoroughly whumped. Worse still, Danny's driving, and he's in control of the radio!

Torture, Jersey Style

Steve took one look at his partner's face, and felt his already lousy day slide towards total hell.

Damn it, as if ruining his new pants in that septic tank wasn't bad enough, he'd hurt himself too. And where there was injury, you could bet your life's salary that Danno would provide the insult.

"Hey, SuperSeal. Real sexy look you got going there."

"Shut up, Danno."

That hated nickname _always_ provoked a ranting reaction. Now, though, Danny just grinned.

Of course, he had good reason to gloat. _He_ wasn't the one who'd chased their suspect down. _He_ wasn't the one who'd jumped into that tank, twisted his knee, skidded face down into stuff he didn't bear to think about - and ended up, yet again, in the emergency room.

No, he was the smug SOB who, along with his other talents, had now picked up a medical degree – giving Steve's attending nurse his very best smile, and the helpful advice of the natural born sadist.

"Oh, and make sure you wash behind his ears. _Lots _of soap. And give him _all _his shots. I mean, septic tanks, all that junk in 'em. _Reeaaally _nasty."

The glare he received in response merely hinted at the retribution to come, but Danny didn't care. Instead his grin widened, in joyous anticipation, as he watched an equally amused nurse wheel his partner towards the treatment room. He was going to pay for this, big time, he knew, but - oh, the torture that he'd get to inflict first would make it worth it.

He hoped.

He knew Steve would need a brace for that injured knee, so he wouldn't be driving for a while. He'd be riding shotgun, for today, at least. Those few precious hours were all he needed.

By the time Steve returned with his new face (Butt-Shot, until he could think of something better), and the fresh clothes (thank God) that he always kept in the Camaro's trunk – yes, Danny gleefully noted, the key parts of Operation Jersey were in typically well planned place.

Car keys. Check. Argument for seating arrangements. Check. Updated life insurance. Check.

And when Butt-Shot Face turned into all out I'm-Gonna-Murder-My-Partner Face, Danny added a wisely silent codicil as he wheeled his partner out to the car.

Last Will and testament. Check.

Before the fun could start, though, he had to get Stilt-Legs here into a two seater sports car. For so many reasons, not least the chance to make sure he _never _dissed his beloved homestate again, thank God for adjustable seats.

Pushing it _all_ the way back on its runners, Danny straightened and beamed up at Steve with, for now at least, a full set of teeth.

"There, ya see? See how your selfless, sensible partner takes care of you?"

Too sore to retaliate, Steve just pulled a face back at him and settled, as manfully as his stinging butt allowed, into his seat. It really didn't help his mood either, that Danny, near skipping to the driver's side, was enjoying this _far_ too much.

The fact that, for once, he was getting to drive his own car was… well, just a _temporary _victory. Once he got this damn brace off, he'd make his seniority, not to mention his height advantage, count.

He'd strap the smug little smartass into his seat, with his damn tie, force feed him pineapple, and… no.

'_Tommy used to work on the docks_'

Oh _no_.

'_Union_'_s_ _been on strike_, _he_'_s_ _down on his luck_'

Oh, _hell_.

Reaching for the slide lever, Steve then froze as his partner's sadistic brilliance began to sink in. His knee was in a rigid brace, so he couldn't bend it, so he couldn't slide his seat forward. However hard he stretched, he just couldn't reach the radio's controls. All he could do instead was glare into his tormentor's gleefuly smirking face – all hopes for a merciful reprieve swept away by a rocking chorus that made his teeth vibrate.

'_Oooooh_, _we_'_re_ _halfway there_'

Five seconds later, they threatened to drop out completely.

"WHOAAA, OHHHHH! LIVIN' ON A PRAYER!"

Jumping out of his seat wasn't so bad. Landing on his still smarting butt _definitely _was. Stunned, too, that such a small body could produce such a volume of noise, Steve groaned _almost_ as loudly. Sticking his fingers in his ears didn't do any good either. It just made his ears hurt. And made him look _really _stupid.

Instead he glared across at Jon Bon Jovi's closet groupie, and made him a silent promise.

'_When I get this damn brace off_, _I_'_m_ _gonna drop kick you back to Jersey_!'

That glorious day was still some way off. Danny knew it too, and - damn it, where the _hell _were they going?

The broadening smirk on Danny's face _didn't_ bode well.

"Oh yeah. Well, it's such a nice day, and you're always nagging me to explore this pineapple infested hellhole. And since we don't have any cases, there's no rush to get back the office, sooooo..."

No. He wouldn't. He _couldn't_.

"...so I've got a full tank of gas, _all _my best CDs, and the rest of the day to teach you some _real _taste in music. So sit back, TankBoy, and enjoy the ride!"

Like hell he couldn't. And if there wasn't a legal term for murdering one's partner before, Steve sourly decided, there sure as hell was one now. Dannocide. Death by tie.

Yet not even the deadly glare that presaged it could wipe that damn grin from his soon to be strangled partner's face. All Steve could do instead was watch the finger that waggled teasingly out of his reach, before it reached out to crank up the volume. And as the Camaro rocked to Jersey's finest, a plaintive wail rose through another bone-jarring chorus.

"I'm gonna kill you, Danno, you hear me? I'm gonna kill you, Dannn-_NOOOOOO_!"


End file.
